Reprobates (The Bohica Chronicles Book 1)

by C. J. Fawcett

  Although they had given up jogging, they marched as fast as they could while trying not to jar the dying animal. This was for mostly selfish reasons, as each bump caused the animal’s bodily fluids to slosh onto them.

  They broke through the dense underbrush and onto the deeply rutted road that would take them to the gate. It was easier going, and they were able to pick up their pace.

  “Not much farther now,” the Aussie said. “Hang on for just a few more klicks, little guy. We just need to get paid, then you can cark it.”

  “Kind of insensitive, don’t you think?” Charles grunted.

  He shrugged. “Who the fuck cares? It’s not like it can understand me. Besides, you’re thinking the same thing.”

  The animal convulsed in the net and foam leaked from its mouths. Its eyes bulged and then the yellow fire in them went out.

  “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s dead,” Booker said.

  “Think we can make it back in time?” Charles asked.

  They took off at a run, not caring about jostling the body anymore. The dead weight between them swung with the motion of their steady steps. They struggled on as fast as they could, but it was another hour before they crashed through the gate.

  Still running, they threaded their way through the camp. Men stared and shouted at them as they ran past. The body left a trail of blood and puss behind. The stench of its rotting flesh made people gag.

  In another fifteen minutes, they arrived at Franco’s. The man was on his way out the door when they ran into him. He’d been on his way to investigate the noise they’d caused running through the camp.

  They dropped the body at his feet. They were covered in blood, rot, and mud and felt like their skin was on fire from the fluids that had sloshed onto them.

  Franco covered his nose with a bandana. Booker could tell he was frowning at the rapidly deteriorating body.

  “This has to be burned,” he said. He pointed toward an incinerator—a small shack next to the pole barn where a chimney coughed black smoke into the air.

  “Just like that?” Roo sputtered as his teammates shoved the animal at the incinerator attendants.

  The man shrugged. “I told you, didn’t I? My instructions were clear: it needed to be back alive, or not dead for over thirty minutes. That thing is clearly past both of those points.”

  The Aussie, his face bright red even under the mud and the rash he had, lunged toward Franco, who reeled back. Charles and Booker grabbed Roo by his arms and hauled him away.

  “You motherfucker!” he yelled. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re the first ones to bring back one of these dumbass animals and you’re not even going to try to use it? Are you fucking joking, you dumb piece of shit cock-sucker!” He fought against his companions.

  “The instructions were clear. Better luck next time, gents,” Franco said, then returned to the mysterious darkness of the pole barn.

  Roo stopped his antics so they released him.

  “Fuck me dead. This is some horse shit, that’s what I’m saying,” he muttered.

  “Won’t catch us disagreeing,” Charles said.

  “We need to go to the infirmary and get patched up,” Booker said. He pronounced each word carefully, taking his time. He watched as the plume of smoke coming from the incinerator thickened and spewed black into the sky.

  “You boys ready for your Silkwood shower?” the nurse, a giant of a man, asked cheerily. “Got to get you decontaminated and cleaned off before we can start doing any damage control.”

  He led them into a stainless-steel room, empty of everything but a few shower heads. “This is the unpleasant part, gents,” he said. Then he laughed.

  Roo glared. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”

  The nurse sobered. “Sorry. It’s just, y’all got real fucked up, didn’t you? But here you are, still standing.”

  He shrugged and flipped a switch, and water shot out of the shower heads. Steam filled the room quickly. He passed rough sponges out to the three men.

  “You get off on watching people do this?” Roo asked, glaring as he stripped.

  The man shook his head. “Not even a little bit. I won’t lie to you guys, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. You’ve got to scrub all the foreign contamination off and out of all your cuts. If you don’t do a good enough job, I’ll have to get backup and we’ll do it for you. I don’t want that, you don’t want that, so do it right the first time.”

  The water burned, and the men found out it wasn’t just normal water but a cleansing saline. Their skin felt like it was on fire. Their small cuts and larger wounds stung and burned. They scrubbed like they had been instructed to do, which only served to rub more skin raw. The floor of the shower was soon coated with mud and blood.

  Once they were decontaminated, the nurse brought them farther into the infirmary where their medic and a few others tended their wounds. They were stitched up and given antibiotics.

  “Here,” the nurse said, handing each of them a tube of cream once they were patched up, “you put this on twice a day for five days. It’ll stop your skin from being irritated and will get rid of the rashes you all have. But you can’t go back into the Zoo when you’re using the cream.”

  “Why not?” Booker asked, frowning at the tube.

  “Zoo animals are drawn to the smell of it. So, unless you want to be Zoo food, stay out of the Zoo until you’re finished with the regimen.”

  “Are you done with them, Sven?” another man asked from where he’d been standing while holding a mask up against his face.

  “They’re all yours,” the big nurse said.

  “If you’ll follow me, gents, I’ll take your payments now,” the man said.

  “Of course, he will,” Roo muttered. “Like every other fucking parasite in this place.”

  Dan was waiting for them when they emerged from the infirmary, their wounds patched up and the treatment paid for. Thor bounded happily around them, lapping at them with his long, purple tongue.

  “Hey, Thor, you miss me?” Charles asked, crouching to better pet the wriggling puppy.

  “You three look like shit,” Dan said, folding his arms over his chest.

  Roo rolled his eyes. “Are you always this sharp, or just now?”

  “Oh, always. What the hell happened to you?”

  “We brought it back,” Booker said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, I heard. Also heard it was dead. Certainly smelled dead,” the man said.

  “I’m not discussing this with you right now.” Booker sniffed.

  Dan shrugged. “You’re welcome for watching your demon dog. I’ve never seen an animal eat as much as that thing does. Good luck with that. I’ll collect tomorrow.” He walked away, whistling.

  The team trudged back to the container, defeat hovering over them. They could feel the curious gazes of the men they passed. They knew that word had traveled through the French Quarter and almost anyone who was around would know what had happened.

  They fought down some overly salty and bland MREs, then collapsed on their cots, giving in to the exhaustion that dragged at their limbs. Thor snuggled up to Charles, falling asleep tucked under his arm.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Harvesters Camp

  They were subdued the next morning, each brooding in their own way. Charles played fetch with Thor, while Roo watched with a blank expression.

  “I don’t think it would’ve gone so poorly if we’d had a better idea of where to find the thing, not to mention a better means of transporting it back,” Booker said.

  “You’re preaching to the choir, man,” the American said.

  Roo sharpened his knife. “I can’t believe after all that we got fucking nothing.”

  “We had the wrong equipment. The net was not a good option for capturing and maintaining something like that,” Booker said.

  “Not to mention, we should’ve had better weaponry,” Charles pointed out. “I mean, it couldn’t really be helped that the
area was so poorly mapped out. We were going in basically blind.”

  The Brit was quiet for a moment. He mentally calculated how much the fruitless trip into the Zoo had cost them. They had racked up infirmary expenses, lost and damaged weapons, and had injured themselves in the process. The deficit wasn’t looking good. They’d need to replenish their ammunition supply, get more grenades, another net, and probably some better equipment. Not to mention, they needed new bandages in their field kit, and it would probably be good to have an extra tube of the cream the nurse had given them, even if it attracted Zoo animals. The cream seemed to be working, although it tinted them all slightly orange and smelled like fake lemons and bleach.

  He studied his companions. “We took quite the hit on that mission,” he said, each word measured and carefully pronounced.

  They looked expectantly at him.

  “I would understand if you guys didn’t want to continue with these missions if they are each going to be this costly.”

  Roo snorted. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, mate.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Charles asked, frowning.

  Booker swiped his finger under his nose. “Hell no! I just wanted to make sure neither of you were having second thoughts.”

  The American gave a half grin. “We’re grown men. We’d tell you if we were calling it quits. No fudging around with a question like that. A man’s gotta be certain about what he wants.”

  “I know what I want,” Roo said, standing abruptly.

  His teammates eyed him warily. They could see how tightly wound he still was. He’d barely unclenched his fists, his jaw grinding his molars together, even as he sat still. it was hard to tell if it was simply the allergic reaction was having or not, he had remained a blotchy red that seemed to indicate that his anger was still running hot.

  “What’s that?” Booker asked, giving in.

  “I could go for a few cold ones,” the man said. “Let’s go get shit-faced. We fucking deserve it. That mission might’ve gone terribly wrong, but we’re here in mostly one piece. Besides, we did something none of these fuckers has done. We brought back a three-headed monster.”

  “It was dead. And we didn’t get paid for it,” the Brit pointed out.

  Roo flipped him off. “Let me have this, asshole.”

  “Fine,” Charles said, standing too, “let’s go get a drink.”

  The other patrons at the bar seemed far too interested in their group. They settled into an inconspicuous table in a corner and ignored the sly remarks from those around them.

  Roo was having a harder time ignoring the jabs about their failed mission. He nearly vibrated in his seat with his anger, his gaze darting around, glaring at anyone who dared to make eye contact.

  “Someone let the Oompa Loompas out,” one man said, getting snickers from those around him.

  Booker suppressed an eye-roll.

  “What losers,” another man said, strolling past their table with a friend. “The Zoo running them off with their tails between their legs.”

  Charles clamped his hand on Roo’s shoulder, pressing him back into his chair. “Just drink your beer,” he said.

  The Aussie grumbled but guzzled the rest of his drink. His teammates exchanged a look. They were bothered by the others’ attitudes, but they weren’t going to give the mockers the satisfaction of getting a rise out of them. Roo, on the other hand, didn’t have as many qualms about it. He was jonesing for a fight. He wanted to feel his knuckles driving into the side of someone’s skull. He wanted to hear the satisfying crunch of a broken nose.

  “Look at those sorry assholes. Why are they still here?” one man a table over said.

  “They’re just waiting for their mums to come pick them up since they can’t handle keeping up with the big boys,” one of the man’s companions answered.

  Roo launched himself upward, his chair rocketing back behind him, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. He leapt onto the table, Booker and Charles calmly moving their beers out of the way.

  “Listen up, motherfuckers!” he yelled, spit flying, his face red, and his eyes promising a beating if anyone tried to come near him. “The fucking Zoo isn’t enough to scare us away, and neither are you asswipes! We’re going to be here long after all of you get your dumb asses killed. And you know what? If you don’t fucking like it, you can suck my dick!”

  The bar was silent, all eyes on the rage-filled Australian where he stood on the tabletop. His teammates rose from their chairs slowly.

  Charles drew himself to his full height, folded his muscular arms over his chest, and planted his legs apart. “Anyone here have a problem with us staying?” he asked in a quiet and steady voice. He didn’t need to yell. The underlying menace he was putting off was enough to deter anyone. He meant business. All three of them did. Their movements and words had been proven to be more real than others would’ve thought.

  “Didn’t think so,” he muttered when no one challenged them.

  The American sat once more and went back to his beer. Booker followed suit.

  Roo climbed reluctantly off the table, righted his chair, and sat. He grumbled and cursed under his breath and his fingers drummed an angry tattoo on the tabletop. He nodded his thanks to his companion for backing him up. They acknowledged with head-tilts of their own. They were a team and they would always have each other’s backs.

  The bar returned to its usual noise. After a few minutes, the waitress approached their table with another pitcher of beer.

  “We didn’t order that,” Booker said before she could put it on the table.

  She waved him off. “Don’t worry, hon. Another table got it for you.”

  “Who?” Booker asked.

  She pointed toward the table with the men who’d been the most vocal about the three giving up and returning to where they came from. They gave Booker, Charles, and Roo a nod, raising their pint glasses in a toast. The team returned the gesture.

  They relaxed into their beers tension easing from them. No one was going to start a fight with them, at least not that night. They’d broken through the seal of isolation and had finally earned some respect from the other men of the Zoo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Harvesters Camp

  It was the second day of doing nothing and Booker could feel the restlessness eating away at him. With the limited availability of activities outside the Zoo, the days were as slow as hell.

  He calculated and re-calculated their finances, then read as much literature on the Zoo as he could find. Most of what there was provided little useful in the way of details or was outdated. The Zoo simply changed too much, and the early reports had little relevance today. There were philosophical discussions on exactly what the jungle was and what the aliens wanted, but none of that helped him on the ground. Even the conspiracy theorist websites were painfully empty, vague, or totally in left field.

  The combined forces of world governments were keeping chatter on the Zoo tight-lipped. He made a mental note to ask some of the others in the Harvesters Camp about it. If he was looking for the most accurate and up-to-date information about it, all the experts were in one place. They were the ones who trekked through it every day, not the government desk jockeys who hoarded information like gold.

  Information was gold to the harvesters, too. Just look at how Prince handled that. He doubted he’d be able to get much information that would give him and his team a comparative advantage, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  “Do dogs normally grow this fast?” Roo asked.

  They were outside the container, biding their time till they could return to the Zoo. Booker looked up from his tablet when the man spoke. He looked at Thor, who was bouncing excitedly around Charles’ knees.

  “He does seem pretty big,” he said. “We weren’t gone all that long.”

  In the span of their mission, the dog had almost doubled in size.

  Charles shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s normal,
but I don’t think it’s anything weird. He’s a mutt, obviously. A blend of a lot of big breeds. I’m guessing he’s something like Rottweiler, mastiff, and chow with that purple tongue of his. Those all grow pretty fast.”

  Thor wagged his long tail at his owner, then rolled over and begged for a belly rub. The man complied.

  “I’m going to train him like a military dog. He can be a huge help in the Zoo,” he said. He made a circular motion with his finger in an attempt to get Thor to roll over. The puppy merely bounced up and wagged his tail harder.

  “Good luck with that,” Roo said.

  Charles flipped him off. “Don’t listen to him, Thor. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  The Aussie stood and stretched. He looked around, then stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “Where are you going?” Booker asked. He studied his teammate closely.

  “Got a few errands to run,” the man said with a shrug. “I’ll be back later.”

  He strutted off and was soon out of sight. The others watched him go.

  “What’s that about?” Charles asked.

  The Brit shrugged. “Right now, I can’t really muster up the energy to care what the bugger is doing.”

  “He’s probably going to get us in some sort of trouble,” the American said with a frown.

  “You’re probably right. However, we’ll cross the bridge when it catches fire.”

  “Don’t think that’s a saying.”

  “Well, it is now,” he said, getting up and stretching. He’d been sitting for too long already and it was only mid-morning. “I’m going out of my bleddy mind. I need something to do.”

  “Want to help me with Thor?” Charles offered, although reluctantly.

  Booker smiled. “As much fun as that sounds, and even though you clearly want my help, I’m going to pass. I think I’m going to have a geek around and see if I can drum up any more information on the Zoo. Maybe line up some missions for when we can finally get back.”